


To Grow Something Wild And Unruly

by southofordinary



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Anxiety, Hospitalization, Minor Violence, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mystery, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Police Procedural, Protective, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24083398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southofordinary/pseuds/southofordinary
Summary: A freckled arm reached forward, closing around the frigid coffee cup. It was half empty, she had poured it hours ago. The boxes strewn around reminded her that there was more left unfinished than just her drink. Her lease expired in less than a week, and yet she had made little progress in packing up, despite the fact that the majority of her belongings had long since been sold off as a means of paying rent. The room’s only illumination, the impossibly bright lamp on her desk, mockingly revealed her inability to complete any task- and so she shut it off. Better, she thought, to not see all of that. Grace carried her phone, still face down, towards the kitchen to pour out the forgotten drink. She had barely made it two steps when her eyes were drawn to the window once more by movement outside.In one instant, a pair of boots hit the glass, a calamitous sound crashed through the tiny apartment, and a faint groan was heard as Grace froze in terror, eyes locked on the puddle of a person now sprawled across her living room floor.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 1





	1. The Intruder

**Author's Note:**

> A story I started a long while ago and really need some inspiration to work on again. It's an original story set in modern times about the relationship between a struggling writer named Grace who lost her only daughter and the mysterious young girl who tumbled into her life as they navigate an unpredictable path together. I hope you guys enjoy it!

In the small upper apartment of a small building in a small room sat a desk, a woman, and a laptop. The harsh blue light of the screen was interrupted by only a similarly small grouping of words- a document onto which the lines were written- 

**_Resume:_ **

_Grace Stevenson_

_Writer, Editor_

_401 W 5th Street_

_Cardinal Apt. 508_

_555-XXX-XXXX_

The near-empty living room in which Grace sat was bathed in warm, yellow light. Save for her desk, a couch, and a coffee table, it was bare. What little decoration once adorned it had long since been sold off as a means of paying her rent. Beside her, a cup of coffee grew cold under a warm lamp, tiny yet bright. Light walls of chipping paint were framed by dark, ornate molding- the kind one would expect to find in a law office, or the apartment of someone far more wealthy and serious, its heavy tone lost on the chaos and clutter of the cobbled together space in which Grace lived. Underneath the desk, the chair, and the woman was a barely visible hardwood floor, lost under a sea of papers, books, and empty boxes yet to be packed. A cell phone buzzed gently in her pocket, bearing an unwanted notification. When she pulled out the phone to check it, she saw from her home screen that it was now 3 am- she had to go to sleep. Grace ignored her phone, flipping it over in her hands so that the light would not reach her, and spun in her seat to face the lone window across the room. 

Outside of her lonely space were lights that never went out, buildings as far as the eye could see and a blank sky void of stars. Inside the blank sky lived her face, reflected back by a thin layer of glass. A stranger. Smeared mascara, fiery hair piled into a nest atop her head. Her face was a little sallow- when was the last time she had eaten? She was young, but the lines around her eyes gave away her exhaustion and added years to her appearance. And yet, forgotten smile lines circled her mouth, a reminder that she used to carry boundless joy within her tired face. 

The woman in the window stared back at her- someone Grace barely recognized. Frustrated, she spun back, facing the glossy, empty screen and shut the laptop.

 _It can wait until tomorrow_. 

A freckled arm reached forward, closing around the frigid coffee cup. It was half empty, she had poured it hours ago. The boxes strewn around reminded her that there was more left unfinished than just her drink. Her lease expired in less than a week, and yet she had made little progress in packing up, despite the fact that the majority of her belongings had long since been sold off as a means of paying rent. The room’s only illumination, the impossibly bright lamp on her desk, mockingly revealed her inability to complete any task- and so she shut it off. _Better_ , she thought, _to not see all of that._ Grace carried her phone, still face down, towards the kitchen to pour out the forgotten drink. She had barely made it two steps when her eyes were drawn to the window once more by movement outside. 

In one instant, a pair of boots hit the glass, a calamitous sound crashed through the tiny apartment, and a faint groan was heard as Grace froze in terror, eyes locked on the puddle of a person now sprawled across her living room floor. 

With the lamp off, the only light left in the room came from the neighboring buildings, floating freely through the broken window and drenching the fallen stranger in a neon blue haze. Now unfiltered, the noise of the street could be heard like a soundtrack of confusion. The intruder sucked air through their teeth and braced their weight upon their arms as they slowly pulled one leg, then another, out from under their body. As the person shifted laboriously into a sitting position, Grace stood, still frozen, with her phone in one hand and the old mug of coffee in the other. Her sleep-deprived brain told her at this moment that if she did not move, the intruder would not notice her (like a T-Rex in an old movie). However, since this was a person and not a dinosaur, her plan did not hold.

“Huh”, the puddle muttered, “I didn’t think that would be so hard to break.”

Possibly because she was startled that the intruder spoke so casually, and possibly because she was in shock that they were in her home at all, Grace’s only reaction was to burst into laughter. For one second, it was the loudest sound in the room, over car horns and yelling in the street. Then, a hand flew to stifle it. 

“What’s so funny?” Shot the stranger, Grace’s eyes finally catching with the person who had cartwheeled through her apartment. 

The twinge of annoyance in the voice startled Grace, who realized as soon as she regained her ability to think clearly that this was not the voice of a grisly serial killer, or a dinosaur, as she had previously thought, but a girl, and a young one at that. This revelation prompted her to run back over and flip on her desk light, stumbling over the empty boxes until she found the lamp switch in the dark. Turning towards her uninvited guest, a small gasp escaped her mouth. 

The girl was covered in blood. 

Grace stared. The teenager stared back. Her wide eyes had deep, purple circles underneath them as if she had not slept for days. Her soft cheeks gave away her youth, but they were littered with small cuts and bruises. A scar ran across her face on its left side, curling up through her eyebrow to her hairline. She wore loose black clothing, but it was torn in several places and one sleeve was missing, revealing a deep gash in her arm, which she quickly put her hand over. 

Wincing as she covered her wound, the girl tried to stand. Her dark eyes closed, her knees wobbled, and she took in a deep breath as she gathered herself upwards. When they reopened, her eyes were unfocused, glassy, and emotionless.

Grace ran back over to the girl, barely making it in time to catch her as she collapsed from the ground up. This was difficult as the stranger was at least a head taller, and despite being lanky was heavier than she looked. Grace had to brace herself against the weight of the girl in her arms so as not to collapse too. 

Now fully in shock, while still holding the girl, Grace stopped to consider her situation. A stranger had broken into her house and was now bleeding everywhere. This wasn’t necessarily a scenario she knew how to handle. Should she leave the girl on the ground? Call the police? An ambulance? As her head spun, Grace made one coherent decision- the girl had to be moved, at least.

Still shaking with fear, the woman lifted the unconscious intruder up at her knees and back. With great difficulty, using muscles long neglected, she was able to carry her to the couch on the far side of the room. Placing her down as gently as possible, Grace crouched over the girl. The fear and hardness in the young face were gone with her consciousness, and now all Grace could see was an injured kid, her dark eyebrows furrowed and her breathing heavy. She knew nothing about this possibly dangerous stranger who had crashed into her apartment- however, she did understand one thing. There was a child in her home who needed her help. 

Flying upwards, Grace remembered her cell phone- she had dropped it when she ran to keep the girl from falling. She scrambled over, picked it up, and began to dial 911.


	2. Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A freckled arm reached forward, closing around the frigid coffee cup. It was half empty, she had poured it hours ago. The boxes strewn around reminded her that there was more left unfinished than just her drink. Her lease expired in less than a week, and yet she had made little progress in packing up, despite the fact that the majority of her belongings had long since been sold off as a means of paying rent. The room’s only illumination, the impossibly bright lamp on her desk, mockingly revealed her inability to complete any task- and so she shut it off. Better, she thought, to not see all of that. Grace carried her phone, still face down, towards the kitchen to pour out the forgotten drink. She had barely made it two steps when her eyes were drawn to the window once more by movement outside. 
> 
> In one instant, a pair of boots hit the glass, a calamitous sound crashed through the tiny apartment, and a faint groan was heard as Grace froze in terror, eyes locked on the puddle of a person now sprawled across her living room floor.

Sirens erupted down the streets as Grace sat on a hard seat holding a small, cold hand in her own. Two paramedics flitted about the cabin of the ambulance, running tests and checking the girl’s vitals as the vehicle neared the hospital. Her breathing was shallow, small beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. She had lost a lot of blood. 

Upon their arrival in her apartment, police and emergency technicians had bombarded Grace with questions. It was all she could do not to break down with so much chaos, but she kept calm, biting her fingernails and lying through her teeth as the paramedics brought in a stretcher and lifted the young girl onto it. 

“Ma’am. I asked ya’ somethin’. D’ya know this kid?” 

The latest question pulled Grace out of her trance as she jerked her head towards the gruff policeman giving her a disgruntled look. He was older, in his fifties, with a slightly southern lilt in his voice. He looked as if he had been woken up from sleeping on whatever post he’d had before being called in. His hair was matted down to the left side of his head as if it had been pressed against the window of his cruiser, his large mustache was sticking in all directions, and his eyes were red and half open. In his exhausted state, he looked very menacing, and so Grace decided she had better answer him. 

“Yes. She…” Grace fumbled to come up with a lie true enough to hold. “She’s a student of mine. I.. I teach a drop in writing course nearby, at the library. She comes in once a week for… for help with her schoolwork.” 

_ Why am I lying? I have no idea who she is! She could be a criminal. She broke into my house! This is not my problem.  _

Grace’s head spun with more questions than answers. She had no idea why, or when she had decided to do it, but at some point, the words tumbled out without her realizing. Grace explained to the police that the girl was a student she tutored and they had been seeing each other for several months. That she was a junior in high school preparing for college applications, but that she did not know which school the girl had attended, nor where she lived. 

“What happened?” The cop was staring directly at her, looking for any signs in her expression. “Can you tell us how she got into your home?”

“I…” Stammering, she decided the best answer here was the truth. “I don’t know. I was at my desk when I heard a crash, and she somehow managed to get through my window. She must have climbed the fire escape and broken in.” The confusion and worry in Grace’s eyes were genuine. The cop’s face softened. Then he asked for her name. 

“Ava.” 

The word flew out of her mouth before she could process it. For a moment, Grace stood dead still. The expression on her face made her look as if the floor had flown out right from under her, and she was falling infinitely down to the harsh pavement stories below. She was still in her apartment, people were still asking her questions, and the paramedics were preparing to take the girl out of the door. But Grace was far away. 

“Ma’am? Ma’am?” 

The cop was staring at her again, this time with brows furrowed in concern. To him, it seemed as if the woman had just blacked out for a minute. He braced himself to catch her in case she fainted- he had seen one too many terrified mothers with the same expression over his career. 

“I’m sorry. What was it?” Grace asked, once again snapping back to reality. She looked up at the policeman, who had his eyes trained on her apprehensively. Grace was sure he thought she might shatter if he took them off of her for even a second. He asked her slowly, as if she were a bomb and each word might set her off-

“You said her name was Ava. Her last name. D’ya know it?” 

“No. I’m sorry,” she replied, her gaze shifting back to the ground, which was no longer collapsing underneath her. 

“Alright.” The officer eased up from his tense, ready stance. 

“They’re gonna take her to the hospital. If you’d like, I can ask them to let you ride with her. It isn’t protocol, but it seems like you care about her. Maybe she’ll feel more safe with someone she knows. I’ll find ya there, and we can go over this in more detail.” 

“Yes. Uh… th- thank you.” Grace barely managed to stutter out the words before sprinting down the stairs to catch the ambulance parked at the curb. Explaining in hurried half-sentences to the EMTs that she should ride along, they apprehensively gave in and helped her into the back. She stood beside the girl, towards a wall, with her hands pressed against the metal for dear life. One EMT climbed past her, careful not to bump into the woman that seemed as though she’d unravel at the slightest touch. He climbed into the driver’s seat, switched the sirens on, and began to drive. 

She stared at the small, pained face below her. Another tech pulled aside the young woman’s collar and placed white square stickers attached to wires on her chest. The girl’s heartbeat showed up on the monitor, and Grace tried to breathe in time with it. In, out. In, out. 

Then the heartbeat quickened. 

Red and blue lights danced around in her vision. The EMT’s yelled words Grace didn’t understand, as if it was an entirely different language, and she found herself dragged into a memory of hearing the same foreign words years before. 

Her heartbeat quickened. 

Grace grabbed the girl’s small hand. It was cold. Too cold. 

She looked at the strange intruder’s face. So young, almost as if she were a baby. 

_ What am I doing? _

Grace screamed inside her head. 

_ What am I doing? _

_ I can’t help her.  _


	3. A Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A freckled arm reached forward, closing around the frigid coffee cup. It was half empty, she had poured it hours ago. The boxes strewn around reminded her that there was more left unfinished than just her drink. Her lease expired in less than a week, and yet she had made little progress in packing up, despite the fact that the majority of her belongings had long since been sold off as a means of paying rent. The room’s only illumination, the impossibly bright lamp on her desk, mockingly revealed her inability to complete any task- and so she shut it off. Better, she thought, to not see all of that. Grace carried her phone, still face down, towards the kitchen to pour out the forgotten drink. She had barely made it two steps when her eyes were drawn to the window once more by movement outside. 
> 
> In one instant, a pair of boots hit the glass, a calamitous sound crashed through the tiny apartment, and a faint groan was heard as Grace froze in terror, eyes locked on the puddle of a person now sprawled across her living room floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has themes of anxiety/depression and takes place within a hospital. If any of these things are uncomfortable for you to read, it is suggested that you skip it. 
> 
> Grace struggles with memories of the past which eerily mirror her unexpected present.

The starless black sky outside the window was turning bright orange at its ends. Pink and yellow shades sprawled ever higher on the horizon behind Grace as she sat by the girl, still holding her hand. 

“She’s lucky. It was close.” A passing doctor peeked her head into the room, holding a chart in a gloved hand. She looked exhausted, her face mirroring Grace’s. 

“Yeah. Very lucky.” 

Slumped into an uncomfortable chair, Grace lifted her head to look at the girl. Her face was calmer now, more peaceful. Long dark hair was braided behind her head, with strands sticking out left and right. Her left cheek sported a large wad of gauze from a deeper cut, while her right had simply been cleaned up. 

“My name is Dr. Medina, I worked on Ava earlier. She had a few broken ribs and some deep lacerations on her arms and legs, but she’ll be okay.” The doctor paused- Grace did not turn around to acknowledge her. She continued. 

“It took a lot of work, stitching her back together. She’ll be in pain when she wakes up- but she _will_ wake up, and should recover fully.” Dr. Medina stood in the doorway, watching the girl. She had lost so much blood- if the EMT’s had brought her in any later, she might not have made it.

“Thank you.” The words escaped Grace’s lips, half whispered, and the doctor took that as her cue to exit. Grace’s gaze fell down to her own body. She stared at her shoes- an old pair of flats she’d been wearing for years. She’d thrown them on after calling for the ambulance. Gently, she stood from her chair and placed the girl’s hand back upon the bed. She slipped silently out of the room, down the hall, and towards the elevator. She knew there were public restrooms on the first floor where she could clean herself up. She walked into the elevator, slumping against the wall as the floors dinged in progression. 

Five ( _ding_ )

It was now around six in the morning- the girl had been in the hospital for over two hours. They had stitched her up fairly quickly, and given her a room where she could be observed. While the girl was being treated, Grace had sat in chilling silence in the waiting room for what felt like a lifetime. A television mounted in a corner opposite of her ran the news from the day before, and Grace had sat, staring at a spot on the wall just below it, tapping her feet and biting her nails until they bled. 

Four ( _ding_ ) 

When Dr. Medina had finally walked back in, Grace thought she might pass out. But she smiled before even saying a word, and Grace thought, _she can't possibly smile if the girl died- so she has to be okay._

Three ( _ding_ ) 

_She has to be okay._

Two ( _ding_ )

Was it the same? Two years ago- the last time Grace was in this hospital. Was the TV in the same place? Were the chairs always this hard? Was the fluorescent lighting still so goddamn terrible? 

One ( _ding_ ) 

The elevator doors opened. As if on autopilot, Grace turned left and walked down the hall. The walls were light yellow, dull and sickening. They smelled like bleach. Left at the end of the hall. Through the front lobby. First door on the right. 

_The bathroom hasn’t changed._

A full length mirror and three stalls greeted her, with three sinks facing the opposite direction. Grace walked up to the mirror and sighed. She looked horrible. She still had her work clothes on, from the day before- green trousers with a white top. Her thick beige cardigan was unbuttoned and loose, falling off of one of her shoulders. She picked it back up and dragged it to meet her collarbone. Her hair, once in a neat bun, was now loosely floating around her head. No doubt the back was smooshed down from where her head had been pressed into the hard wall of the waiting room. She grabbed a hair tie off of her wrist with her teeth and proceeded to pull the red mess up into a high ponytail, but it was just too short, and small bits fell back out around her face and neck, framing her sleepless eyes. Regretting her recent haircut, Grace walked over to one of the sinks and turned the knob. 

Frigid water hit her face as she scrubbed off the remains of her raccoon mascara from the day before. Pulling her head back up to meet her reflection, she dried off with a paper towel that was rough on her soft skin. Wiping with her fingers underneath her eyes once more for good measure, she turned to face a toilet stall and was reminded suddenly that it had been hours since she’d last used the bathroom. 

_________

The elevator reopened and Grace stepped back out onto the fifth floor. Around the nurse’s station, she saw a man sitting outside of the girl’s room. Panic struck. Did he know her? Maybe her father, maybe a friend? Oh God, he was going to know she lied about everything. Would he be mad? Would he accuse _her_ of hurting the girl? She was considering turning and heading in the other direction when he spotted her. The man turned towards her, smiling, and beckoned her over.She recognized him as the gruff police officer from earlier. He looked as if he had gone home and showered, something she admittedly was jealous of. He now wore a simple sweater, and his hair was a far more regular shape. His mouth widened into a smile under his mustache. 

“Hello!”, He bellowed from down the hall, “I heard from a doctor that she was all patched up. You must be very relieved.” He continued to smile as she walked down the hall towards him, face pulled into a tight lipped excuse for a smile. His face dropped a touch, and he shifted his gaze. Awkwardly, he rose up out of his seat and extended a hand. 

“We met, but I doubt you remember my name considering how eventful your last few hours have been. Jack Sullivan, I’m a detective with the police department.” 

Grace did not grab his hand. He left it for another moment, and then slowly retracted it. His eyebrows twisted and he looked down, clearly uncomfortable. Grace brought a hand to her brow and pressed against her temple for a moment before answering. 

“I remember.” She responded flatly, staring at his shoes before bringing her eyes back up to his face. The detective’s gaze shifted upwards, as though he were gathering his thoughts before speaking. 

“Listen. I don’t want to bother you any more than I have to, but there are still questions which I need answers to.”

Grace’s eyebrows raised. 

“I think I told you everything in my apartment.” She said, quickly. “Look- I’m tired. Can we do this some other time?” 

Sullivan’s eyebrows drew together like curtains. Grace thought he looked like a cowboy from an old movie. 

“I understand,” He started, “Which is why I brought you a cup ‘a coffee and some breakfast.” He gestured to a bag on a chair next to the one he had been occupying, and a cup on the ground. “It’s still hot.” 

“No, thank y-” Grace began answering, but her stomach protested audibly. 

“Alright,” she conceded, embarrassed. “But just a few questions. I want to be here when she wakes up.” 

It had been hours since Grace had started that long forgotten cup of coffee still at home, and likely more than a day since she had eaten anything- she couldn't remember. Remembering to eat was yet another thing she had stopped being able to do over the last few years. Sullivan had brought two bear claws for breakfast, and the pair sat in relative silence as Grace devoured hers in a second. She moved on to the coffee, barely giving herself a beat to breathe before gulping down the life-saving liquid. Slowly, her eyes became easier to keep open. 

Sullivan stared at the woman quizzically. He wasn’t sure if she was starving, or stressed, or both. He did know that he was glad he’d bought two bear claws. He didn’t need one- his wife had made him breakfast- but he had a hunch while standing in the woman’s bare-bones apartment earlier that morning that she didn’t eat quite as well as he did. He slowly extended the other one toward Grace, who glanced at it and then him as if to say _are you sure?_ , and he nodded. She offered a very small smile as thanks and took it gently from his hand. 

“So,” Sullivan began, still watching Grace, “I’m going to start outright. I don’t think that you’ve been completely honest with me.” 

Grace froze. She turned her eyes slowly to meet Sullivans. His expression wasn’t accusatory or demanding, but he sat with his eyes trained on hers, searching for answers. 

“You weren’t”, He concluded. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you have your reasons.”

This only further panicked Grace. Any normal officer who knew she was lying about an injured minor would be taking her in for questioning, putting her in handcuffs, or at the very least pressing her for answers. 

The detective’s expression changed. He sat back, shifted his gaze to his coffee cup. His eyes narrowed, but his tone stayed calm and friendly. 

“I want you to know. When you’re ready to explain this all to me… after that girl wakes up- whoever she is- I’ll be here.” 

His weight rocked forward in his chair as he stood, towering over Grace. Her eyes were trained on his face, looking for signs of malice. But he only smiled at his coffee. “My card’s in the bag. It’s got my personal number and name on it- you can call me whenever you like.” He finally shifted to look at Grace, his expression still friendly, though something in his eyes had changed, as if there were implications to his friendliness which she could not decipher. 

“But promise me. When you call, it's to that number only.” 

With that, he cast a glance upon the girl in the hospital bed, resting, unaware, and retreated towards the elevator. Grace looked down at her bear claw. She was still hungry, but that conversation had unsettled her. She stood, brushed a few crumbs off of her pants, and threw the pastry away before walking back into the hospital room.


End file.
